The Lost Boys
by JossyRose
Summary: (Short stories based around the Wammy Boys and multiple ideas as to how they got there as well as interactions and first meetings. Includes how I percieve A, from Another Note.) These children were all smart, but a group of boys stood out from the rest. Their names were Lawliet, Beyond Birthday, Anthony, Nate, Miheal, and Mail. They were the genuises, the sociopaths, the psychos.
1. Chapter 1

**Theory #1  
Near  
Parents Killed One Another**

Mummy and Daddy were fighting again. A very small, white haired child dressed in clothes that had once belonged to his older brother sat, huddled against himself, cowering. His hands were firmly clamped over his ears but it did little to no good. The sound seeped through. The boy flinched when he heard skin-on-skin contact, but he was not sure if his mother had slapped his father or the other way around. It wasn't necessarily an unusual occurrence in the River household but it wasn't an everyday thing either. Not that it mattered how often this happened, it was certainly taking an emotional toll on the poor little four year old.

Tears sprung to his eyes as he heard his Daddy furiously shouting a string of profane, tasteless curses at the woman before grabbing her neck and pushing her against the wall, forgetting for the moment, that his son was not five feet away from the ordeal. The little boy gasped and then quickly squeezed his eyes closed, desperately wishing that there was something he could do, but knowing that there was not. It was a horrible pain, this knowledge, this feeling of absolute helplessness. Most children were comforted with the helplessness, the knowledge that safety and security would be provided to them free of charge, but Near and at one point, his brother, always had to think fast and be quick on their feet to save themselves from the wrath of both of their parents, locking themselves in their rooms, or sometimes both in the same room, and trying to drown out the violence.

"I will always protect you, little brother. I promise," his brother used to say in a gentle, soothing voice.

Where was his brother now? He had left the minute he turned eighteen years old with the empty promise of returning to rescue the child. But that promise was broken the moment he was arrested for domestic violence against his girlfriend. Like father like son.

The young child just wanted to be numb of it all. Take his emotions! Take his thoughts! Take his LIFE! He just wanted the pain to stop. A dying shriek and a dying shout as his mother wrapped her hands around the lamp on a side table, bashing it over his father's head. Blood streamed down the side of his face while he pressed his thumbs into her soft neck, cutting off the oxygen flow completely. Both adults crashed to the floor while the horrified boy watched in terror.

"Mummy? M-Mum. Wake up!" the child crawled over to her lifeless form, "Daddy, what's wrong with Mummy?!"

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he received no answer from either parent. He forced himself to his feet and ran to the landline, pressing his fingers against the 9-1-1 buttons. A kind, feminine voice answered, "Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?"

"Mummy and Daddy won' wake up! I'm scared! They aren' moving!" the British boy shrieked into the phone.

The woman on the other end shushed him soothingly, not understanding much from the frantic screeches of the young child, and asked for his address so she could send an ambulance and police squad. The boy sniffled as he answered, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his brother's white button up. Moments later, sirens could be heard and a loud bang on the front door startled the already traumatized boy.

"Poor kid. His parents murdered each other right in front of his eyes."

"Must've taken a toll on the poor boy. That's gotta be traumatizing."

"I just hope he's young enough that he won't remember any of this. How old is he? Four? Geez, how can people do this to their children?"

The little boy spent many years going from orphanages to foster parents back to orphanages, until one day, he was taken to a new place, called Wammy's. Apparently it was because he was highly intellectual for his age, or so he was told anyway. Once he arrived there, he met a strange boy who reminded him a bit of a raccoon because of the circles under his gray eyes.

"Hello…" the teen drawled, "I am Lawliet. What's your name?"

The eight year old looked up at Lawliet with expressionless eyes. No child so young should have to be so guarded, so emotionless, so vacant. His clothes were pure white and definitely did not fit him. They must have belonged to a sibling or perhaps his father, Lawliet deducted. The smaller child twirled a lock of his snow white hair while he spoke. A sociopath in the making.

"My name is Nate."


	2. Cursed

It was a crisp evening in London as night began to fall, the sky's explosion of color fading into a monochrome gray that dusted over the city as young children held the hands of their parents, dressed as monsters and ghouls. A group of teenagers hung around the water fountain she was sitting on, chatting loudly and eating candy that their parents no doubt were planning on passing to the kids which would stop by. She looked up, mascara tears running down her cheeks as she stood, hands pressed gently against her enlarged belly. The young woman could be no older than twenty two, appearing to be a college student, but how maternal she appeared whispering softly to the unborn child within her as she roamed the streets. She entered the apartment she shared with her older brother, John, and sat down on the dingy couch next to the man she lived with. He pulled the cigarette away from his lips and snuffed it out in the ash tray to avoid intoxicating his unborn nephew.

Green eyes met his sister's gray ones, then drifted down to his nephew. "When did the doctors say he was due?"

"Sometime this week or next. They think he'll be born in the next few days or so. So, no, I'm not going to the party, before you ask."

"Aw, come on Lindsey, you don't have to drink or nothin'," his thick London dialect clashed with her proper received pronunciation accent, "It'll be fun."

"And if my son decides he wants to come out tonight?"

"You better hope not, it's Halloween. Bad luck to be born on the Devil's holiday."

The woman shook her head and sighed despite the smile curving her lips upward. Her brother barked out a laugh and crossed the room to retrieve a beer from the fridge, plopping down next to her again afterward.

"Do you..."

"You can go, John, I don't mind."

"Are you sure," he pressed, taking a long swig of the bronze liquid, "I don't want to leave you here by yourself if you think the little bugger might pop out soon. What if it _is _tonight?"

"I can drive, Johnny."

"When you're in labor, I don't think so, Lins. Why don't you stay with Rachel tonight, just until I get back. I'll pick you up in the mornin'."

Her over-protective older brother. It was coming out of him again, the pressing, the scolding, just like when they were kids. She nodded.

"Alright," she agreed, "I'll give her a ring. But if she doesn't answer, I'm staying here."

"Then so am I."

The female laughed and rolled her gray eyes as she stood, brushing a strand of maple hair from her face. She walked over to the landline and dialed the number of her friend, who picked up after a couple of rings, her voice drowsy.

"Mmrph...'ello?"

"Were you sleeping?" Lindsay asked incredulously.

"Just takin' a nap. Did you need something?" through the phone, she could hear Rachel stirring, sitting up quickly in bed, "It's not about the baby is it?"

"Eh...yes and no. The doctor said he'd probably be due somewhere around now, and Mister Over-protective over there didn't want me to stay here by myself while he goes to Mickey's stupid Halloween. You weren't planning to go were you?"

"You kidding? Who do I know there? Rose, Clara, and Janette? No thanks," a soft sigh, "So, I take it you wanted to have a slumber party," she teased.

"Of sorts."

"Alright, just come over whenever, but I can't promise I'll be dressed or the house'll be in order."

"That's fine."

To Lindsay, 'whenever' was apparently immediately. She packed a bag, slipped on her tennis shoes, and began walking, despite the protests from her sibling about it being "too dark" and "just let me drive you".

She spent the majority of the night staring out the window at the children ranging in age from six to seventeen, running about, shoveling candy passed their lips, whilst she spoke to her friend.

"Rachel...have you ever thought about having children?" the brunette asked, though she already had heard the answer several times, as she imagined her own child among those about on the spooky holiday.

"Changing diapers...being spit up on...hearing whining, and complaining, and always being tired and..." the woman trailed off as her eyes became distant. She strayed from her usual response to such a question, "Yes."

"What?" Lindsay turned sharply.

"I never met the right man..."

"Turns out I didn't either."

Rachel nodded, "I've thought about it, but I don't think I ever would...No kid deserves to have me as a Mum."

Lindsay's eyes drifted back to the window as she whispered, "That's not true. Besides, everything changes when it actually happens. Do you think I would have considered myself Mummy material back before Angus got me pregnant?"

"I guess not. Still, I don't think I'd want to, I have thought about it though."

It was nearing ten o' clock now. Lindsay lurched forward a bit with a slight gasp as she felt her abdominal muscles clenching and unclenching slowly. Rachel was by her side in a moment.

"You alright?"

Lindsay shook her head, catching her breath before gasping out, "I think...I'm having contractions..."

"Wha-?...Eh, did your water break?"

The labored woman managed to turn an exasperated glare to her friend, "I'm not in a movie, Rach-el!, I need to get to the hospital...just in case," she added to appease her unsure friend.

"Alright, but if this isn't the real thing and you make me look like an idiot..." she mumbled as she helped her pregnant friend into the car and drove to the nearest maternity ward.

The mother-to-be groaned and gasped on the way, but she was still not prepared for the pain of real labor and actual birth. After much panting, screaming, and clenching the now possibly broken hand of Rachel, an infant's cries could be heard, the child born on Halloween.

"What's his name?" whispered Rachel to the new mother.

"L-"

/

He felt that he was cursed, sometimes, though he knew that was impossible. Curses existed only the minds of easily manipulated, gullible, superstitious simpletons who could not differentiate between fiction and reality, possibly due to developmental disorders causing their minds to be overly simplistic and childlike...or perhaps it was him who was abnormal.

From a very young age, the raven haired boy had felt as though he was much different from everyone else. His mother was constantly pleasantly surprised about all the knowledge he managed to retain, but he had felt as though these facts ought to have been common knowledge. Was this not the case? He did lack in some areas, however, and that was sociality. This was where the curse began.

Before nursery class, the young boy had come in contact with very little people throughout his life. He lived with his Mummy, his Uncle Johnny, an sometimes was visited by Mummy's friend Rachel. These were the people in his life. While Mummy and Johnny worked, the boy would spend the day alone or with Rachel. Even when he wasn't alone, however, he wished he was. To occupy his time he would read. Nursery, however, for whatever reason, required attendance from all children in his age group living in England, and so he went. His peers would glance at him curiously, and the teachers seemed uneasy around the child. Any person could see why. His messy lack hair pointed out at odd angles, though this was not particularly unusual for a five year old, his grungy clothes hung off of him, giving an appearance of an unhealthily low weight, though this was simply an illusion, and his diet of sweets contradicted this idea; his mother had long ago given up forcing him the clever boy to give up sweet things, and so long as he also made it a point to eat what she cooked for him, she enabled the habit, hoping he would grow out of it. The aspect of this odd youth which concerned people the most, however, was his speaking pattern and exceptional intellect. Often times, he didn't behave like a child at all, but rather a very small adult of superior intelligence. Many of his teachers felt he may be smarter than they were, though they quickly dismissed the thought. It began on the first day of Nursery Class when he had warned another boy about wandering too far away from the school.

"It's not like anythin'll happen," the elder boy argued, insulted that a smaller child was bossing him around.

The black haired one shook his head, "A pedophile could abduct you and you will never be seen again. I'd prefer not to say what would happen to you, but police would likely find your dead body sometime after that and your parents would probably sue the school...because that's what people seem to do..." the small child trailed off, then snapped back into reality, "Anyway, I think you should stay by the playground where the adults are."

The second year primary schooler gaped for a moment before running off to Mrs. Wilson, shouting about the "creepy kid over there". The woman took in the information relayed by the older youngling before approaching the younger to confirm.

The first year only nodded with the response, "I just wanted to warn him."

This, of course, induced a meeting between the teacher, the child, and his mother, who arrived with scraggly hair and dark circles beneath her eyes. When asked about his response, the Lawliet boy only stated, "I read about it in a book about Law and Order at the library...was I incorrect?"

/

This was his school life. Children steered clear of him, adults tended to avoid him as best they could, but they weren't as lucky, as it was their job to care for every child, no matter how strange, and the boy was quick to point this out.

Around Halloween, other children would pick out costumes of zombies, ladybugs, murderers, princesses, video game characters, and the Lawliet child stayed indoors, blew out the candles of his birthday cupcake, as his mother generally could not afford an entire cake, as if the three of the family members needed more than the miniature treat, and the child would retreat to his bedroom to read. His mother would sigh, maybe mention off-handedly to her brother how she was concerned for the anti-social child, only to be reassured by the man.

"He's probably just shy, Linds, he'll get over it."

It was when the boy was eight years old that his mother had gone out to the grocery store...and never returned. He sat there with his Uncle, curiously glancing at the time, then up at the man he sat next to. Said adult wrapped an arm around his nephew, though the child attempted to wiggle out of his grasp, and kept whispering about how she would be back soon.

"This is a bad part of town," the boy sighed, looking out the window, "and it's late. She may have been-"

"Please don't say anything, kid."

The little one turned his head toward the man, saw the distress in his eyes, then nodded. In the morning of the next day, the boy would be awoken to the sound of knocking on the door and feel his Uncle, who had also fallen asleep, shift position and stand, opening the door to reveal two police officers, one male and one female.

"Kiddo, why don't you go in your room and play?" his mother's sibling told him.

"I don't play... but I guess I'll go read..."

He stood and walked to his room, closing the door softly, then he sat down on his bed and stared up at the empty ceiling, allowing the tears to trickle down his cheeks, though his facial expression remained emotionless. He already knew what the officers were going to say.

Only weeks later was his killed in a car crash during the winter. No one was left to take in the genius child. Rachel had moved away to America years ago, and the two people the young sociopath knew were dead.

The boy was taken to an orphanage for gifted children in Winchester. As the child walked through the gates, he decided that he was cursed, and knew he would never allow his heart to break like this again...because he would never allow his heart to open.

**A/N This was a longer one. So, one of my friends asked me what I thought L's first name might be, because I believe Lawliet is his surname, and I figured I'd let you all know my answer. Lucius is my head-cannon name for L because it is Latin meaning "light", which parallels with Light's name. This, of course, might change, but I have always thought of this as his name and I may end up playing with this in later one-shots. What do you guys think? I would love to hear your opinions of L's name.**


End file.
